Cruisin' On Down Main Street
by T.O. Cole
Summary: A series of one-shots, drabbles, and longer tales, all detailing the many adventures of the Magic School Bus. [Story One: Arnold and Wanda were not the only ones who exchanged special gifts that holiday]


**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**The Magic School Bus **_**series or characters. I am just a long-time fan who also happens to love writing. **

**Author's Note: Hello, one and all. I am T.O. Cole, and this is **_**Cruisin' On Down Main Street**_**. It is a collection of MSB stories, ranging from one-shots to drabbles, with maybe a few longer tales sprinkled in. **

**And this one just so happens to be my very first. **

**I will admit. I am a little nervous about posting this. I have not written a story—at least, one that was not meant for the newspaper I work for—in quite some time, so I know I am more than a little rusty. Plus, this is my first time writing for MSB, in any way, shape, or form. **

**Hopefully, neither of those drawbacks will keep you guys and gals from enjoying the story. **

**In terms of what I use as canon, I mainly look to the animated series. There is a bit of my own head-canon thrown in there, but not too much. From time to time, I might throw in a reference to the original books, too, but for the most part I only use the PBS show for background info. **

**OoOoOoO**

**CRUISIN' ON DOWN MAIN STREET**

_**Story One**_

"**Christmas, Bookmarks, and the Cookies with No Name**

**Or How Carlos Jumped Into a River"**

**OoOoOoO**

He really hadn't needed to go see _The Nutcracker_ after all. The millions of butterflies in his stomach were doing enough twirling and leaping and dancing to more than make up for missing the ballet.

_Urk. Forget Ralphie and him just thinking about it. I really __**am**__ going to be sick._

Well, if he was going to be sick, he hoped it was a little while _after_ he talked to her. This was probably going to be awkward enough, without him throwing up all over her book bag.

Carlos fidgeted in the well-worn bus seat, his fingers tapping out a frantic rhythm against his jittery knees. One-two, one-two, one-two-three. Breathe in, breathe out.

It didn't help. Nothing had so far.

And he had had plenty of time to try and collect his jumpy nerves. The train ride to Cove County had taken almost all night, and they had left Arnold (in much better spirits) at his grandmother's house several hours ago.

But that same precious time was finally running out. They were now riding through a sleepy Walkerville, braving the cold and silent world of snow and icy pavement. Ms. Frizzle, her earrings flashing ever so often like Christmas lights, was taking each of them home. She and Murph were singing Christmas carols up front.

They were the only ones nearly so animated. It was pretty late now, early morning actually. The Frizz had already had to pull an exhausted Tim and Phoebe out of Dreamland. Ralphie too, though he had denied it.

They hadn't been alone, though. Most everyone had fallen asleep at some point during the trip home.

Everyone except for him. He hadn't even tried.

Everything inside the Bus was doused in a drowsy half-shadow, but he could still see her. She was sitting with a strangely calm Wanda a row up and across from him. The two girls were talking, but he couldn't hear what they were saying.

He found himself smiling. She had looked nice tonight.

Wow. Had he really just thought that? It was true, and he believed it, but…

Carlos could already feel his face heating up. Smile long gone, he stared miserably at his shoes.

That was why he hadn't told anyone else (though his brother had still found out, somehow), either about his idea for tonight or… um, the other thing. It was already confusing enough, feeling this way, without running headlong into all the unwanted teasing.

The guys would never let him live it down. He was already catching enough grief about it from Mikey, the little traitor. The girls would most likely give off a simultaneous chorus of _Awwwww_. And what if they accidentally slipped the truth to her, during one of those mysterious Girl Talks he had heard so much about, and she found out?

As for talking to his parents, or even the Frizz, about his bewildering feelings…

No. Just no. He couldn't tell them about IT either. He couldn't even admit IT to himself!

Gosh, he was actually shaking right now. He was _shaking_, and he couldn't stop.

_Man, I'm such a loser._

And that thought did little to help his already wobbly confidence. He stared out the foggy window next to him, his head spinning.

He could still back out now. That door was still open, wasn't it? It would be so, so easy to forget about this plan of his. It was probably a stupid one, anyway. It had certainly been horribly impulsive.

He was getting good at being stupidly impulsive these days, Carlos thought morosely. And most of the time, those decisions blew up in his face.

What if this one did too? What if she hated the present? What if she laughed at him for giving her one? Rolled her eyes and just laughed and laughed and laughed and… Or, or, what if everyone else heard about it, and they started laughing at stupid, impulsive Carlos too?

Or worse, much, much worse, what if doing this just embarrassed her, and she started avoiding him?

Yeah. It would be much easier to _not_ go through with this so-called "Grand Master Plan".

Why had he even called it that? Dumb, dumb, dumb…

So forget about it. Just let her walk off the Bus, oblivious, and then throw the horribly-wrapped monstrosity into the deepest, darkest reaches of his messy closet, never to be seen or heard from again.

She did not have to know anything.

Yeah. Easier. Lots easier.

But still… was it the right thing to do?

Carlos suddenly thought of his Abuela Rosa.

"_If you're half way in the river already_," she had once told him, _"you might as well jump all the way in."_

He swallowed. Jump all the way in? But what if he ended up pulverized and pummeled in this river? He remembered the unremarkable lumps Captain Walker and Wonder had become in another ferocious stream. The same thing could happen to him, sort of, couldn't it?

And… maybe it wouldn't. Maybe this idea _would_ work out, and something amazing (maybe not as amazing as a face in a mountain, but still nice) would come out of it.

Maybe…

Carlos let loose a tiny breath of a groan and leaned his head back against his seat, closing his eyes. As he moved, his hand brushed the present he had kept hidden for days now. Its blunted edge was starting to poke him in the leg, too, like it wanted his attention or something.

Weird.

He had bought it only a few days ago. All his savings had gone into it, as had a few dollars he had earned doing some extra chores around the house. He had even spent an hour or three on the second part of the gift, working until his eyes ached and his fingers were awash with ink and rainbows.

And, until tonight, he had been super excited, almost gleefully so, about his "Grand Master Plan."

"_She'll love it!"_ he remembered saying, more than once. _"It's perfect!" _

Yeah. No doubt about it. He was definitely halfway in the river now.

So… what was he going to do?

Walk away?

Or jump?

He spared a one more glance at her up front. This could work out, couldn't it? It _could_. And there was only one way to find out.

His fists clenched, and he released a breath he had not realized he was holding. "Jump all the way in," he muttered. "Just jump all the way in."

And if he was going to take this leap of faith, now was the time to do it. After today, they were going to be on winter vacation. He thought he had heard her saying she was going to be gone for a few days, visiting family in another state, and Abuela Rosa was coming in tomorrow. Who knew when they would really see each other again?

So, yeah. Now—_tonight_—was the best time to act.

Besides, it was just a Christmas present. There was nothing wrong with getting one of your best friends a nice gift, right?

Right?

The Bus came to a slow, puttering halt. Carlos swore he heard it panting. He was not too surprised. The Bus had had a long, trying day too, hadn't it? Being un-recycled sounded about as fun as holding a hairy spider.

Not that he was still scared of spiders, or anything…

He didn't know whether or not it would help at all, or even work (and, wow, wasn't that the theme of his day so far?), but he still compelled to do it. Carlos gave the no-longer-an-aluminum-can panel beside him a few pats.

Most people would think giving a school bus a "there, there" was more than a little ridiculous. But they didn't know Ms. Frizzle's Bus, did they? How could they understand even the Magic School Bus needed some encouraging now and again?

The doors opened with a creaking sort of whoosh. Cold air, mixed with snow, howled into the warm interior. Both Carlos and the Bus shivered.

Not so much the resident teacher. "Here we are, Wanda," said Ms. Frizzle, as brightly as ever. "Home sweet home."

"Uh-huh." Wanda hopped up from her seat and stumbled towards the door. "Thanks, Ms. Frizzle. Thanks, Murph," she said, in the midst of an impressive yawn. "I hope you guys have a nice holiday."

"Happy holidays to you too, hon," said Murph.

Wanda waved goodbye, and seconds later she was slipping inside her frosted house. The Bus's engine rumbled back to life and, with a groan, it crawled back onto the street and pressed onwards.

Now it was just him and her left, just as he had planned.

In hindsight, it was actually pretty lucky it had turned out this way. Sure, they usually were the last ones dropped off whenever a Field Trip lasted longer than expected, but there had been no guarantee that this time would be the same.

His "Grand Master Plan" had more than a few kinks in it, it seemed.

He decided not to dwell on it too much. What good would that do? It had turned out okay in the end, hadn't it? Now all he had to do was pull everything together for the big finale. Just get up and walk over, before he or she got home.

_Time to jump in_, he thought. _I guess…_

He shakily stood, his heart racing, and slid the wrapped gift into his coat. He took a step up the aisle of the Bus.

And then he froze. He couldn't move, not even an inch. Staring at the back of her head, he swallowed, his newfound courage failing him. The hard lump lodged in the back of his throat went nowhere.

_I… I… I can't…_

Without warning, the Bus jolted, almost coming to a complete stop. The sudden motion knocked Carlos off balance, and he stumbled forward a few steps before he caught himself.

"Easy there, Bus," said the Frizz. "I saw the ice. We'll go slow and steady from here on out, okay?"

The Bus only let loose a cross _Beep-beep_ and jerked again. This time, not only did he almost fall flat on his face, Carlos also recognized the shove for what it was.

"Okay, okay! I'm going!" he muttered. "You don't have to be so pushy."

_Beep-beep!_

Darn Bus.

Drawing in a deep breath, he clambered his way up the aisle. Ms. Frizzle and Murph had picked up the chorus to "Nine to Five," for some reason, and they did not seem to notice him as he drew closer to the front.

Neither did his best friend, because she practically jumped out of her skin when he plopped into the seat next to her.

"Hey, D.A.!" he said cheerfully.

"C-Carlos!" said Dorothy Ann. "Ugh! Did you have to…?" She flashed him a glare, but it was a fleeting one. A smile was already tugging at her lips. "You were so quiet back there, I thought you were asleep."

He shook his head. "Nah, no such luck."

"For you, or for us?"

"Ha ha. It's not that big of a deal, though. I've never been able to sleep in moving stuff."

"You haven't?" She crossed her arms. "So I suppose the rest of us imagined you snoring on the Bus, when we got back home from the desert."

"That was just one time, D.A., out of almost a million. Besides, I was just resting my eyes, so it doesn't count."

"Uh-huh," she said. "If you say so…"

"I do say so," he chuckled, beginning to feel a little better. This—just messing around with her, talking about anything and everything under the sun, even silly stuff like this—he could always do. "And I call my condition…" He paused dramatically. "_Car Insomnia_," he concluded, with a sweep of his arm.

"Car Insomnia."

"Oh, yeah. And it used to drive my parents _crazy_ when I was little. I'd never take a nap during the longer trips, so they were always having to deal with me."

"Big surprise," she said dryly.

"I know, right?" he said with a grin. "But don't worry. It all turned out okay. After Mikey was born, I could help keep an eye on him for Mom and Dad. So my Car Insomnia ended up saving the day after all." He shrugged breezily. "Just saying."

Dorothy Ann gave him a look that was tempered by both incredulity and amusement. The last made him feel very, very pleased with himself. He liked tickling her funny bone, probably more than anyone else's.

"I suppose it's true what they say, then," she said at last. "There's a silver lining to every cloud."

He laughed. "Wow, D.A.! You sound just like my abue—my grandma. She's always saying stuff like that."

"I do? Really?"

"Uh-huh. She's like a living fortune cookie or something. Which is a little weird, 'cause she's my Dad's mom. But still! Abuela Rosa is really good at handing out advice and stuff, especially when you need it most."

She smiled. "She sounds like a very wise lady."

"_If you're half way in the river already_, _you might as well jump all the way in."_

"S-She is," he said. He suddenly felt a little warm around the collar, and his stomach flip-flopped. He bulldozed on ahead before D.A. noticed his bout of nervousness. "She's actually coming in tomorrow, for the holidays."

"Oh, that's nice. You must be excited," she said.

"Yeah, we all are. We don't get to see her that much anymore, since she lives so far away." He grinned wildly again, adding, "That's why I'm going to give her a big surprise for Christmas."

"You are?"

"Yep!" he said gleefully.

"Okay…" she said when he added nothing further. "What is it?" Crossing her arms, D.A. smirked a little. "You're not putting on a show like you did at the carnival, are you?"

"Hey! Abuela happens to _love_ watching me juggle and ride a unicycle, just so you know," said Carlos. He was still disappointed the act hadn't gone as well as he had hoped. He had thought it was pretty impressive. "But, no, that's not it. Besides, D.A., I did all that last year."

She chortled, and there was no meanness or mockery behind it. She was simply tickled again. "Fine, then. What _are_ you doing this year?" she asked, once her giggles were under control.

"Baking, of course!" he proudly proclaimed.

"Well, _obviously_. What else would you do?" she said. When he merely smiled at her, D.A.'s eyes widened. "You're not joking," she said. He shook his head. "You really are going to bake something for your grandma?"

"Uh-huh. I do have awesome baking skills, after all," he said. "Remember? You were at the bakery."

"I was. And I know you had a lot of help with Ms. Frizzle's cake," she pointed out.

"Well, yeah, but…" He hesitated, suddenly feeling a touch sheepish. "See, I've… I've been practicing since then. Like, a lot."

Astonishment flooded her face. "You have?"

"Um, sure. It was fun, you know? Baking the cake, I mean. I like making stuff anyway, and baking's not too different from inventing things. So I just started practicing at home. I'd help Mom with Saturday-night deserts, or I'd try something new by myself." He grinned. "I make a very mean cookie. You might even call them _crookies_."

"Carlos…" she said, rolling her eyes. She suddenly gasped. "Wait a minute. Wait. A. Minute. Those chocolate-chip cookies you brought to the school bake-sale last month… Your mom didn't make those, did she? You did!"

"Guilty as charged," he said, winking at her. Then he leaned closer and whispered, "They were okay, right? They didn't come out the way I wanted them to, and nobody said anything, so I was worried…"

"Okay? No, they weren't okay," she said. And before he could start drooping or pouting, she added, "They were delicious!"

It was probably impossible, but Carlos thought his insides were going to explode. It certainly felt like fireworks were going off in his chest. "Oh…. T-Thanks, D.A.…" was all he managed to say.

"I mean it," she said. "They really were fantastic. And whatever you make for her, I'm sure your grandma will love those, too."

"I hope so," he said. "I'm making her favorite kind. No Name Cookies."

She lifted a brow. "These cookies have no name?"

"No. I mean, yes, uh…That _is_ their name."

"What is?"

"No Name."

"No Name?"

"Yeah, they're No Name Cookies. They're also called World's Most Famous, but my family's always called them No Names. They're basically made out of nuts and oats, with little bit of coconut mixed in."

D.A. licked her lips. "I love coconut."

"Me too," he said, beaming. "I'm using my grandma's recipe. She gave Mom a big book of them a long time ago. If I follow her directions, I'm pretty sure the No Names will turn out okay. Abuela is a great baker."

"And now you're following in her footsteps," said Dorothy Ann, smiling.

"Uh… I don't know about that," hedged Carlos. "When I say she's great, I mean my grandma's more or less a master when it comes to baking. I still burn a lot of things. Like these pies I tried to make at Thanksgiving…"

He winced. He had almost been banished from the kitchen for all time after that not-so-little mishap.

"But mistakes are how we learn," she said, her warm eyes pinning him to the spot. "Isn't that right?"

"Take chances, make mistakes, and get messy, huh?" he said.

"Exactly!" she declared. "Nothing worth doing ever came easy, after all. Sometimes, taking a risk or two in life is the best thing you could ever do."

He snorted and, his breath caught in some odd mixture of a laugh, a cough, and a near whimper, buried his face in his hands. "Now you really do sound like Abuela!" he moaned in-between his fingers.

"_If you're half way in the river already_, _you might as well jump all the way in."_

"I'll take that as a compliment," said D.A., sounding incredibly pleased with herself.

"Erm…"

She laid a hand on his quaking shoulder. "Seriously, Carlos, your cookies will turn out fine. And even if they are a little burnt, I'm sure your grandmother will love them. It's a very thoughtful gift." She heaved a wistful, little sigh. "I wish someone would do something like that for me."

If that wasn't an opening to go through with the 'Grand Master Plan', he didn't know what was.

And, well, he supposed he had stalled long enough.

Time to jump in!

Carlos jerkily sat up and reached into his coat. "Um," he said. "Speaking of, uh, presents and stuff…" He shoved the gift into her lap. "T-That's for you."

"Huh?" said Dorothy Ann. A dozen crinkly penguins, all dressed in Santa hats and red scarves, smiled up at her. "This is for me?"

"Y-Yeah… Sorry about the wrapping job. I'm not very good at it."

She did not say a single word. In fact, she still looked blindsided by the present. She kept staring at it and then him, and then back at the gift again, her eyes a little glassy and her mouth forming a small, silent "O" of what could only be described as complete and utter shock.

He had no idea what to make of it.

"Um…" He swallowed, and offered her a very, very shaky smile. "You can open it now, you know. If you want to…"

"Oh. Oh! Right, sorry," she said, all in one rattling breath. "I was just…" D.A. trailed off and nodded. "Okay."

With deft, careful fingers, she tore into the wrapping paper. It did not take her long to get rid of the wrinkled stuff. It had been falling apart as it was, thanks to his less than stellar gift-wrapping talents. The penguin-paper fell in crumbled balls at her feet, revealing the gift in a matter of seconds.

It was a thick, battered book, one that had been much loved once upon a time but had definitely seen better days. It was entitled: _The Amazing Arctic._

"This is…" breathed D.A.

"Yeah," he said. "I thought you might want a replacement. You know, since we used your first book for insulation and everything."

She sighed. "Oh, Carlos…"

"It took me forever to find one. At first, I couldn't remember what the title was. I didn't want to ask you. That'd ruin the surprise, right? So I had to do a little digging. And when I figured out what it was called, I went out looking for it, but I couldn't find it in any of the local bookstores. I mean, no one had it. Seriously, D.A., I think this is supposed to be for college students."

"Carlos…"

"I finally found this one at a used bookstore in the old part of town. The cover looks a little rough, I know, but all the pages are there. I checked for you. And it has some really neat illustrations and maps your old book didn't have."

"Carlos…"

He finally heard the slightly overwhelmed tone in her voice. His stomach twisted. "What is it?" he asked. "Is something wrong? I did get the right one, didn't I?"

She stared at the book, running a hand up and down its shabby spine. Most of her face was hidden in the shifting shadows dancing inside the Bus, but he was able to see her shake her head. "N-No. No, you got the right one," she mumbled.

"Then what's…" He suddenly felt all shriveled up inside, his throat tight and shoulders as heavy as lead. "You hate it, don't you?" he said, staring at the floorboards.

Dorothy Ann jolted in her seat. "What? No, no, that's not what I was trying to—!"

"It's because it's a used book, isn't it?" he said, unable to bring himself to look at her. _I'm such an idiot. _"I'm sorry. I should've tried harder to find a new copy."

"Carlos, listen…"

"I…I still have the receipt. I'll give it to you, okay? You can take the book back and get a refund, or maybe exchange it for something else..."

She suddenly huffed. "Carlos, don't be silly. I don't hate it, and I am not going to return it."

_That_ shocked him out of his glum thoughts. "What? You don't? You're not?" he said, and he finally dared to peek up at her.

Her expression was no longer hidden, by either the dim lighting or the book, and he was shocked by what he saw. Her cheeks were flushed, and she actually looked close to tears. She was almost trembling, she was so excited, and she bore a sparkling smile that threatened to take over her entire face.

He could not remember the last time he had seen her so happy.

"Buh…" was his intelligent response.

"No one has ever done something this sweet, just for me," she whispered, cradling the book close. "And you remembered my old copy, too. No one else did. Not even Ms. Frizzle asked about it, after we got back home. But somehow, you knew I was upset about losing it… And you went through so much trouble, just to make me happy… This is so….T-Thank you, Carlos. Thank you so much!"

He grinned wildly. "So… So you like it?"

Dorothy Ann nodded. "Yes! It's wonderful!"

"Even if it's used, and a little weird looking?" he said.

"I think it gives it character," she said. "I know better than to judge a book by its cover. Besides, I _love_ older books. I collect them." She opened the book and, even though it was way too dark to read, browsed through the worn pages. "Oh, you were right. These illustrations _are_ incredible!"

Carlos couldn't help himself. He was much too deliriously happy to care. "So I guess this book about the Arctic…" he drawled. "It was a pretty _cool_ gift after all, huh?"

She heaved a world-weary sigh and shook her head. "Carlos…" He just laughed and laughed. He cackled so hard, he almost fell into the floor. Thankfully, D.A. snagged his collar and kept the pratfall from happening. "You were just waiting to use that one, weren't you?" she said.

"Maybe," he said cheekily. "You'll never know."

"I don't know if I want to know. Oh! What's this?"

A small object had toppled out of the open book. Dorothy Ann picked it up and peered at it. "It's a bookmark," she said.

"Yeah," said Carlos. "It's the second part of your gift."

"Second part? There's more?"

"Mm-mm. Any book lover needs a good bookmark, right? So I put one together for you!"

The bookmark was obviously homemade—and Carlos winced to see it had bent a little since he had hidden it on page 94—but it was not a haphazard arts-and-crafts project either. Its background was beautifully if inexpertly painted in watercolor, and in all the colors of the rainbow. It even boasted its very own fluffy tassel.

The silky thread was violet, of course.

That was not all, though. Stylized lettering, handwritten but thick and neat, also trickled down the length of the bookmark. D.A. brought it closer so she could read the single sentence. Her brow furrowed as she fought off the dim light.

"_According to my research, I am on this page…"_ she recited.

"Perfect, huh?" said Carlos.

She chuckled and, gently laying the bookmark on her current page, nodded. "It is. Both of them are. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Dorothy Ann," he said, returning her warm smile with one of his own.

"It really was sweet of you…" she added.

"I'm a baker, remember? Being sweet comes naturally."

He was a little worried when she made no sarcastic comeback to such a statement, as she usually would. Instead, she was quiet. Holding her new book to her chest, she stared almost broodingly out the window.

He frowned. "Hey, D.A.," he said, shaking her shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing's wrong. Not really," she said. "It's just…" She sighed. "You gave me such a nice Christmas present, and I don't have anything for you."

Was that all that was bothering her? Carlos tried not to laugh, though a small chuckle did manage to escape him. "Aw, D.A.! I didn't get you a present just so you'd have to get me something. It doesn't work that way, you know."

"I know! But I still feel as if I should do something for you."

"Well, you don't have to—"

"I know I don't have to! But I _want_ to!" She suddenly twisted around and looked him straight in the eye. He stiffened. "Make it a part of my present, if you want. I don't care. But, please, let me do something for you, Carlos."

"Er…"

He knew there was no arguing with her, not when she was this determined. It was one battle he would lose. He knew that from experience. Still, he didn't want to make her buy him anything. He rubbed his chin, his brain scrambling for a good Plan B.

He didn't care what Wanda said. Those did exist.

"I know!" he said all at once, the idea slamming into him like a thunderclap. "D.A., when are you leaving for your trip?"

"Um, not until Friday," she said. "Why?"

"Come to my house tomorrow, okay? You can help me bake for my grandma!"

She started. "B-Bake?"

"Yeah! Remember? I told you I was making some No Name Cookies for Abuela?" She nodded. "You can help me make a big batch for her."

"Well…" she said slowly. "I don't mind helping you. Really I don't, Carlos. But… are you sure you want _me_ helping you? I'm not very…"

"Sure I'm sure," he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "I'm the talented baker, and you're the brilliant chemist. And baking and chemistry are the same thing. Together, we'll make an unstoppable team!"

She pursed her lips. "I…"

"Besides, if you help me, you'll get to meet Abuela," he said excitedly. "You'll like her, and she'll like you too, I just know it! Besides, you _did_ offer. So how 'bout it, D.A.? Wanna be my chemistry partner?"

Dorothy Ann laughed and wiggled out from under his arm. "Okay, okay! You don't have to beg, Carlos! And stop it with those eyes already. I'll do it."

Was it even possible to feel this happy? "Great!" he almost squeaked, his voice cracking.

She only smiled. "What time do you want me to be there?"

"Uh… Would ten be okay? I know we're getting home really late..."

"Technically, it's early in the morning," she said, staring closely at her watch. "Almost 2:00, actually. But I get the idea."

"So… Is ten o'clock gonna work?"

She nodded. "It sounds fine to me. I'll be there."

"Thanks. You don't have to bring anything. I already have all the ingredients."

The Bus suddenly slid to a hopping halt, making them both jump in their seats. Their teacher peered over her shoulder at them.

"Here's your stop, Dorothy Ann," said Ms. Frizzle. She had a way too knowing smile on her face. "Are you ready to go?"

"Um, yes," said D.A. "Just a second." She carefully slid her new-used copy of _The Amazing Arctic_ into her book bag. She even gathered up the torn wrapping paper. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow, Carlos," she said.

"Guess so. See ya, D.A."

She smiled.

And then, without warning, she lunged at him. The next thing he knew, she had wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder. It was a nice, long hug, simple but wonderful, and he returned it just as warmly.

"Thank-you again," she said. "For my present."

"Hey, don't mention it. What're friends for?" he said. "Merry Christmas, D.A."

"Merry Christmas, Carlos," she said.

She let go of him, but she only leaned back a smidge. They shared a look, one that made his stomach flip-flop, but in a much nicer way than it had earlier that evening. He opened his mouth to say something.

She cut him off with a brief kiss to the cheek.

"G-Goodnight," she mumbled, her face as flaming-red as his felt.

Without another word, she stumbled for the door and raced down the steps. Carlos watched her trudge through the snow towards her house. D.A. hesitated at the door, then turned and waved before slipping inside.

A tiny but bright sun was blazing, all aglow, inside him. His cheek tingled, and he could not stop smiling.

Maybe he would jump into more rivers from now on.

OoOoOoO

THE END

OoOOoO

**Author's Note: And that's that. Looking back on it, the introduction (the section leading up to Carlos actually talking to D.A.) seems so much better than the rest. Probably because it went through a lot more revision, and the rest got the short-end of the stick as I hurried to meet my self-imposed deadline. **

**A Christmas story should be published at Christmas, right?**

**And looking back at it, the entire story is more than a little disjointed and jumbled and erratic. There's not as much flow as I would like.**

**But I suppose that is not too bad a thing. I was **_**trying**_**—key word, there—to go for the confusion and nervousness of kids experiencing a first crush. I wanted to translate those feelings into my narrative. **

**Who knows if I actually succeeded…**

**Originally, D.A. had already replaced the book, and Carlos found out way too late. Like, after he gave her the darn thing. She still liked the gift, of course, but that just seemed too much. So I had to do a bit of editing and rewriting. The end result—D.A. being overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness of the gift, and Carlos jumping to the wrong conclusion—is what you see here.**

**And, yes, No-Name Cookies do exist. There are probably a dozen different kinds out there, but the recipe mentioned here will make the cookies I grew up with. **

**They are amazing. Just saying.**

**Abuela Rosa is my own creation, obviously. Her line, though, not so much. It's actually from the **_**Rurouni Kenshin**_** anime. The English dub of Episode 17, in fact. I liked it, and finally found a good reason to use it.**

**I hope you didn't have too horrible a time reading this. I already have an idea for another story, but I am not sure how long it will take me to map it out and actually write it. The other kids will feature, though, I promise!**

**Until then, I wish all of you Happy Holidays. Merry Christmas! Happy New Year! God Bless you all! **

**T.O. Cole**


End file.
